How Not To Deal
by Eliza4892
Summary: Post 2.27 Losing My Religion. Izzie responds to Denny's death by pushing everyone away. AlexIzzie, with IzzieDenny undertones.


**Title: **How Not To Deal

Izzie crept down the stairs sometime after midnight, when she knew everyone would be asleep. She'd been avoiding them all; Meredith, George, even Bailey had stopped by once to talk to her. The tone in the resident's voice as she'd spoken her name, the night Izzie quit, had been sympathetic, and Izzie had almost been expecting the visit. But Meredith had turned Bailey away when Izzie refused to open her door, ignoring Meredith's pleas to just come down and talk. Not about her career, or Denny, or her feelings. Poor Izzie, that's what everyone was thinking. She didn't want to be pitied, she didn't want them all to act differently around her like saying the wrong thing would break her. So she avoided them and only came out of her room at night, unless she needed to use the bathroom.

When she was young, she sometimes went to stay with her aunt during school breaks, and summers, when her mother wasn't around to watch her. If she got sick, which she did on a few occasions, her aunt would give her tea with lemon and honey, and it always succeeded in making her feel better. Even when she wasn't sick it had the same effect now, the familiarity of it mostly. As she stood in the kitchen, she made just that, trying to be as quiet as possible. In all the silence she heard something out of the norm. The sound of steady breathing coming from the living room. Cradling the cup of hot tea, she stepped out into the living room, spotting the form asleep on the couch.

Alex was stretched out on the sofa, with his neck bent in such a way that told her he would have one hell of a headache in the morning. He looked restless, shifting every now and then. Izzie didn't know why he was there, but figured Meredith must so she didn't think too much of it, and contemplated going back to her room and leaving him there. She would've too but she found herself rooted in place. Her body and mind ached for contact with someone, to be able to talk to someone, to touch someone. All interaction she'd had with people that week could be summed up in at most ten minutes.

"Alex." She said, before she even became conscious of her decision to wake him. He stirred but didn't awake. She raised her voice, slightly and came closer. "Alex."

He jolted awake. "What, Mer?" His eyes opened, but took a minute to focus, before they settled on her and he sat up. The look on his face went from annoyance to compassion in the span of a second. Great, just what she'd been afraid of. "Iz…"

She cut him off before he could say anything that would lead to all the things she didn't want to talk about. "Why are you sleeping on Meredith's couch? Don't you have your own place?" There was irritation in her voice and she knew she came off harsh but she'd rather put him on the defensive than let him feel sorry for her. She'd fight with him just so she could talk to somebody.

It worked. Alex could kinder, supportive almost, but only for so long. It was just his personality. She knew his triggers and set them off happily because it took the spotlight off of her. "I'm here in case you decided to come out of hiding. Meredith's out, George is working. We're all worried about you."

"You? Worried?" She scoffed at the thought. "That's a joke. That would insinuate you actually cared about other people." It was cutting, and in the long run she didn't mean it. Her hands were shaking slightly, for some unknown reason, and she set the cup down on the end table nearby to avoid dropping it. "We all know that's not true."

The compassion from earlier was now gone and she could see the fire in his eyes. "What the hell, Izzie?" He didn't understand why she was lashing out at him all of a sudden, having done nothing to provoke her. Although it was obvious he was trying to restrain himself his instincts were getting the best of him. "What is your problem?"

"My problem? You want to know what my problem is? It's you. You're here, not because you care, but because you think you can fake it long enough that I'll run back to you." She was yelling now that she knew there was no one to wake up accidentally. "Well you're wasting your time."

"Oh, is that right? You think you've got me all figured out." At some point he had stood up and come closer although there was still several feet of space separating them.

"Yes, I do. I had you figured out a long time ago." It felt good to be this riled up, like she was finally getting some of the myriad of emotions she'd been experiencing out. "You hated Denny, okay, we all know that. You hated that he was better than you. You didn't care if he lived or died and you're probably thrilled that he's gone." She hadn't meant to bring Denny into this, in fact she had hoped to avoid the topic altogether, but it just came out. She should've just gone back to her room.

"Yeah, I wasn't crazy about the guy, you're not wrong about that. But I'll tell you what you are wrong about. I'm not happy he's dead. I hate what it's done to you. I hate hearing you upstairs crying over him, and I hate listening to you down here yelling at me because you need someone to take this out on." Somehow she wasn't surprised when he called her on it. Alex was always blunt, brutally honest, sometimes to the point of being uncalled for her. He knew exactly what she was doing.

She crossed her arms defiantly, and bit her lip because the minute she brought Denny into this she'd felt the tears coming on. Izzie didn't want to cry in front of him.

"Iz…" there was that look again, the sympathy, and she knew he could see the tears that had yet to fall. He approached her cautiously, and put his hands on her arms, testing her, trying to see how she'd react to physical contact. She twisted, but he held firm, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her frame. Her mind told her to fight him but there just wasn't enough energy left for that. She had spent it all tearing into him, and that hadn't even really worked if she thought about it. But he was warm, and the soothing words he whispered into her ear relaxed her. She hadn't allowed anyone to comfort her since that night in the hospital. And she barely even remembered that night anymore, despite the fact that it was only a week ago. It felt longer than that.

"Dammit," she mumbled, as she felt the tears roll down her cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. His hold on her tightened and she felt him kiss the top of her head. She didn't even notice they were moving backwards until he pulled her down to the sofa with him. He didn't seem to mind that she was pouring all of her grief over a man that had essentially replaced him right here in his arms. It made her feel bad about the things she'd said. How callous her remarks had been. He didn't deserve all that. She almost wanted to apologize, to take them back but her sobs had begun to subside and she could feel sleep beginning to claim her. Izzie hadn't slept – really slept – in a while. She had been too upset, too tense, for it. But now with the tension gone, and the space between blinks growing slower, she let herself nod off, knowing that he would still be there when she woke up. There was always tomorrow.


End file.
